Damaged Goods
by chewing-on-tinfoil
Summary: We're all damaged, it seems. Some of us more than others. We carry the damage with us from childhood, then as grownups, we give as good as we get. Ultimately, we all do damage. And then, we set about the business of fixing whatever we can.
1. Chapter 1

**Nine Months, Part 1**

It was a cold, lonely Thursday night in New York. The sun had already set, and a clock in the next room said it was almost ten o'clock. There, on the toilet seat, sat the lovely Addison Montgomery-Shepherd in all that was left of her glory. In her hand was a long white stick that, upon further observation, could be recognized as a pregnancy test, and the horrified look on Mrs. Shepherd's face said it all.

Had this been any other night, had someone else been in the next room, Addison would have been ecstatic. Under any sort of "normal" circumstances, she would have wanted this, but things around here hadn't been normal in a long time. Derek was not in the next room sleeping on their bed, and she was not carrying his child. Instead, Mark Sloan was lying in a pile of sheets and blankets on top of what once was the Shepherds' bed, and was now simply Addison's.

When Derek left, things had gotten rough for Addison, and she turned to Mark. Again. They had been living together for about two months now, and things were rocky, at best. He was having affairs with other women, though she didn't let on that she knew, and their entire relationship -- even from the beginning -- seemed to be based on orgasms and sweet, dirty whispers in the hallways of the hospital. She thought she loved him, but she seemed to be questioning herself everyday.

So here she sat, alone in a half-lit bathroom with a little white stick in her hand. Her long, red hair hung down in her shameful face. She looked both expressionless and, somehow, sad. There was a deep sorrow within the pit of her stomach, knowing that she had managed to ruin her marriage and now she was carrying the child of the man who had helped ruin said marriage. She loved Derek. Did she love Mark? She did. She thought.

Standing up slowly, Addison gingerly sat the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter and turned to face the mirror above the bathroom sink. She stared at herself, wondering how she got here, and why was she so unhappy? Granted she wasn't with Derek, but she had someone, and now she was going to have a baby. She quickly did the math in her head and sighed deeply. She would probably have the baby in mid-January, but she was beginning to wonder if she wanted to have it at all. It wasn't Derek's. She wanted Derek's baby.

The surgeon ran both hands through her hair and sniffled a bit. Were those tears? That was when Addison realized that there was no way out of this. She had gotten herself into this mess, though, and she was determined to find a way to get herself out of it. Damn him! Damn all of this! This whole situation was going completely out of her control, now. She continued telling herself that this wasn't Derek's child. She couldn't have it! She couldn't tell Mark! But then, by not telling him, that would be making her a bad person. Wouldn't it?

She couldn't very well not tell him. "Oh, God," came the words out of Addison's mouth as she closed her eyes and placed both hands on the counter, opening her eyes to stare at the floor. She couldn't do this. She was questioning Mark's ability to be a father, but more importantly, she was questioning herself. Not just about the baby, but about everything. What would have happened if she hadn't had the affair with Mark? Would she and Derek be together right now?

Probably not, Addison told herself. Their marriage, truthfully, had ended a long time ago. Yes, they were still married, and she was still Addison Montgomery-Shepherd, but what does a name have to do with anything? Legally, they were together, and Addison did still love him, but he had pushed her away. There was a great divide between them that could not be fixed, and God knows Addison tried to make things work, but when things got bad enough, she sought refuge in the arms of Derek's best friend.

Like it or not, Addison knew that she had to tell Mark about the baby. Standing up straight, she sniffled again as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was a broken woman, whose husband had run off and whose lover now slept in the bed she once shared with that husband. Everything was so screwed up, but maybe she could start over. Or maybe not. She was trying to stay positive, but things were hard. She wiped her face off with her hands and took a deep breath.

The woman turned to the door and placed her hand on the door handle, standing there hesitantly. Slowly, as she was unsure of herself and this whole situation, she turned it and opened the door. The bedroom was dark and silent, but she heard the body of Mark Sloan turn over to face her, and he groaned. "Addison?" he said, though it was more of a question than anything. "Come to bed," he ordered, though he wasn't really forceful about it.

Addison stood there for a moment, glancing about the dark room, before she finally took a few steps toward the bed. Her hand went to a lamp that was on a nightstand next to her side of the bed and turned it on. This time, Mark rolled over and covered his eyes. Addison took a quick look at the man before her, wearing nothing at all, but a sheet covered much of his muscled body. "Mark?" Addison asked into the dark, knowing he probably wouldn't turn to face her. "Mark?"

"What?" came the response from the cranky man before her. All he wanted was some sleep.

"We need to talk."


	2. Chapter 2

**Nine Months, Part 2**

After telling Mark about the baby, Addison had not quite been expecting his reaction. He had made her stay up for a while and talk about plans, but all Addison could answer with was "I don't know" or "we'll see." Finally, with a smile, the plastic surgeon laid back down, and she was thankful. She was tired, it had been a long day, and she wanted to sleep. The light was turned off and Addison was soon asleep, but Mark was still up contemplating for much of the night about this whole baby situation. That thought made Addison physically ill.

When the redhead awoke the next morning, Mark was nowhere to be found. She sat up slowly in bed, looking around the bedroom with a confused expression. She didn't know him to be a morning type, but maybe the fact that she was pregnant had finally sunk in. Maybe it scared him and he'd left. The more Addison thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed after his reaction the night before. She wasn't that lucky, anyway. Mark had been excited -- more excited than she'd ever seen him, but where would he go so early in the morning?

She decided that it didn't matter and resolved to stop thinking about it, at least for the time being. She would probably see him at some point that day, and she was almost dreading it. His happiness regarding the baby was almost sickening for her. Pulling her legs over the side of the bed, her hand involuntarily found itself on her stomach and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. This all felt way too surreal for her taste. It was like living in some weird alternate reality for her. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to stand and headed toward the bathroom for an unusually long shower.

Addison, against her better judgement, skipped breakfast altogether after getting dressed and went in to blow-dry her hair. Mark still hadn't shown up. So far so good, she thought to herself. Leaving her hair down for the time being, Addison slowly began brushing her teeth, and that was when she heard the front door downstairs, and the sound of footsteps coming closer to the bathroom. She groaned inwardly when the smiling Mark Sloan stood in the doorway and leaned against it.

"You'll never guess what I found," he said to her, happier than usual, with one hand behind his back. His signature smile was genuine, and it was probably the first time that Addison had ever seen him completely happy. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black jacket. His square jaw was, for the most part, cleanly shaven except for the little bit of stubble he usually left on his face. That smile, though, Addison was sure could like up the darkest of rooms. That's what made her final decision all that heartbreaking.

"Rat poison?" Addison asked hopefully, but it was hard to hear with the toothbrush in her mouth.

Mark looked puzzled, and hadn't heard what she'd said. "What?"

Addison spit out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth and her toothbrush. "Nothing. Just never mind," she said to him and took a deep breath, setting the purple toothbrush into the holder, next to his red one. It was strange how he'd moved in his things as though it had been no big deal. Like Derek had never really been there all those years before him. She missed Derek, but wasn't willing to admit it just yet. The redhead looked at Mark with a blank expression and said, "All right. I'll humor you. What did you find?"

In a swift movement, the plastic surgeon pulled his hand out from behind his back. He had been holding a back from some high-end store, but Addison didn't care about the name. "What's this?" she asked quizzically, reluctantly taking the bag from him. She was afraid to see what was inside, but he had such a pleased look on his face, how could she not look? So she stood there momentarily in the bathroom, looking rather dumbfounded.

"Look inside," Mark urged her, motioning to the bag. Grinning, he folded his arms across his muscular chest and leaned against the frame of the doorway. Addison looked at him like he had finally lost his sanity, then took a deep breath.

Slowly, she opened up the bag and looked inside. There were a few moments during which it was completely silent. Placing her hand inside the bag momentarily, she brought it up and out to reveal what had been inside the little plastic bag. It was a one-piece baby outfit, appropriately supporting the New York Yankees, of course. Addison didn't know what to say. She didn't look pleased, nor did she look unhappy, but she now began to realize just how much this baby seemed to mean to him.

"Well? You're awfully quiet."

Addison heard Mark, but he seemed so distant. She looked up at him with her bright baby blues and forced a small smile. "It's cute," she said, rather unethusiastically. "Thank you." There was a tone in her voice that gave the indication, however, that not everything was sound. That was when Mark began to look worried and furrowed his eyebrows as he stood up straight.

"Addison?" Mark began. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head and inhaled deeply. "Nothing," she said, lying through her teeth. "I have to go to work." Avoiding his question, Addison pushed past him and back into the bedroom, where she laid the outfit, neatly folded, on the dresser. She stared at it for a moment, as though she might never see it again, and turned around to see Mark standing in the middle of the bedroom with a slightly irritated look on his face. He knew everything wasn't right with her, and she would normally share. The fact that she was keeping something from him right now made him slightly uneasy.

"Addie?"

"I have to go," Addison told him seriously, walking around him and toward the door. Mark opened his mouth to say something and she raised her hand, which was a signal for him to shut up. "We can talk later," she assured him. "I have to go now, or I'm going to be late." He followed her into the hallway and down the stairs, bugging her as to what was wrong. She honestly didn't hear his words and had been tuning him out the whole time. She grabbed her jacket and kissed him quickly on the lips, saying, "I'll see you later."


	3. Chapter 3

**Nine Months, Part 3**

Addison had been having back-to-back surgeries and consults all day. There was a baby with HDN who needed attention immediately, and a mother with pre-eclampsia whose baby needed to be delivered immediately. She had also delivered twins earlier that day, which was probably the best part of it. The mother was happy and healthy, and the babies had no major health problems. One of the twins had a set of lungs that were not fully developed, but it wasn't so extreme that he had to be put on a machine. Needless to say, though, Addison was tired.

Upon entering the elevator, she leaned against the back with her hands on the railing behind her. She closed her eyes and raised her chin, inhaling deeply. She was still trying to figure out how to break the news to Mark about the decision she'd made without his consent. She'd already called a clinic in downtown Manhattan that would see her in just two days' time. She had already made sure that her shift for the day would be covered. She hated to do it, but it was necessary.

The elevator stopped and she realized that the short ride from floor to floor seemed much shorter than usual. She had been walking around in a sort of daze all day, and her co-workers had noticed it. No one else knew, except Mark, and she planned to keep it that way. It would make things easier in a couple of days, because then she only had to explain it to one person. As much as she wanted to go home, after a day like this, she was dreading it. She thought about going to the bar, but she couldn't do that in her condition. Maybe she'd drive around.

"Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd?"

Addison had been halfway to the locker room when she heard a nurse's voice behind her. She stopped walking and turned to face the bubbly little blonde. She mentally cursed at herself for not being quicker but forced a smile. What was it with her and blondes? Maybe it was the fact that, off the top of her head, she could think of at least three that had slept with Mark recently. Something about blondes made her skin crawl. Of course, that could have been the hormones causing her hateful thoughts, too. "Yes, Vanessa?" she asked pleasantly, though she was wanting to rip the nurse's eyeballs out.

"There's a woman in the emergency room who's having contractions."

The doctor rolled her eyes and stood erect, folding her arms across her chest. "There's another OB/GYN on staff here, you know," she told the nurse, looking highly annoyed. She had a rather wicked thought about all the mean things she could do with a ten-blade if she had to. "I'm sure Dr. Binsch can handle delivering a baby. She's done it plenty of times before."

Addison turned to leave, but the nurse continued. "She's only thirty-two weeks."

The redhead turned and glared at the nurse. "And you're still talking!" she said, growing far more irritable now. "Have you ever heard of Braxton Hicks contractions? False labor? Get her to a room, have her breathe deeply to alleviate some of the discomfort, get her some water because dehydration can cause them -- and damnit, page Dr. Binsch! I'm off the clock as of right now! Go!" Addison was glad to see that snapping at the poor nurse finally got her point across -- and it made her feel better. "I'm surrounded by idiots," she mumbled to herself as she went to the locker room to change.

Addison took her time in driving home. She was tired, and she knew that an argument would spawn from all of this. Mark wasn't going to let her do anything without his approval first. When she came in the door, Mark was in the living room watching something rather unimportant on ESPN with a beer in his hand. She walked in with a look of disgust and he turned to glance at her with a smile and greeted her.

Looking rather disgusted, she shook her head and asked churlishly, "Don't you have a job or something?"

Mark turned to glance at her and said, "Had a reconstructive rhinoplasty today. Other than that, no. Not really." He turned to look at the television again, but didn't bother to ask Addison how her day had been. She didn't expect it, though. He was an arrogant jerk, and it was all about the sex with him. She thought he might have actually begun to grow a conscience -- but she'd been disappointed in that department. "Oh, there's pizza on the counter, by the way," he finally told her.

Addison took a deep breath and shook her head, disgusted at how she'd gotten into this discussion. "I'm not hungry," she said flatly and headed into the foyer to hang up her jacket. Surprisingly, Mark followed her up the stairs.

"Addison -- Addison, wait!"

"I'm tired of waiting," Addison snapped, walking into the bedroom.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Addison stopped halfway to the bedroom and turned to look at him. There was a rage inside of her that had rarely been seen by anyone. It was something that, at this moment, she was having a hard time containing and she couldn't figure out why. She pointed a finger at him and said, "You. I'm talking about you. I'm tired of waiting for you to change. I'm tired of being taken advantage of when it comes to you! I keep waiting for you to be a better man, and I can't keep waiting anymore!" She turned and walked into the bedroom.

Mark followed, his own anger getting the best of him. "Addison, stop! Would you stop for a minute and talk to me?"

"There is no talking to you!" she yelled. "There is no talking! It's all sex and beer and pizza with you!"

"Hey, what's wrong with that?" he asked, attempting a joke.

Addison pointed a finger at him again, this time poking him in the chest. "See? This is exactly what I'm talking about! I can't have a mature, adult conversation with you -- ever! You'd rather make jokes and avoid the serious issues because you're Mark! It was ridiculous of me to think you'd actually change. I thought you'd be a better man with knowing about the baby. Apparently, I was wrong." He tried to say something and pull her into his arms and she pushed him away. "I almost stayed at work for God knows how long so I could avoid you and avoid this talk."

"What talk? It's you yelling at me for no reason."

"I'm having an abortion!" she blurted out, turning her head so she didn't have to see the look on his face. A silence fell upon the room and Mark didn't say anything. Addison knew that she shouldn't have just told him like that. She hadn't planned on telling him like that. Tears began to fall down her face, but neither of them said anything for a considerable amount of time. Mark finally took a step back and gave Addison a look like he didn't know her at all.

"You can't do that," he said quietly, shaking his head slightly.

Addison sniffled and looked up at him, tears rolling down her paled face. She couldn't keep herself from crying, and she tried not to do it often. Now seemed to be one of those times where she couldn't help it, though. "I have to," she told him, a little more calmed down now. She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. "I can't have this baby, Mark. I can't."

"Addison, it's not just your baby here," Mark told her, sounding a bit hurt. "I took part in this. It's my kid, too. You can't just get rid of it like that."

She looked at him with a sympathetic look. Had he not been Mark, she probably would have kept the baby, but she couldn't keep it. Not knowing that it was Mark's. "I can, and I will," she told him sternly, though the expression on her face was soft and sympathetic. She hated doing this to him, but what did he expect her to do? Mark shook his head again several times and Addison said, "I'm sorry." She knew that not enough apologies in the world would make him feel better, that is if he cared about the child. Addison was positive he really did care for it.

Mark glared at her, and Addison was almost sure for a few moments that he was going to cry. "You're not having an abortion, Addison. You can't."

"Mark -- "

"No! It's my goddamn kid too, Addison! You aren't the only party affected by this!" Mark placed one hand on his hip while the other rubbed his chin. He paced a few times and said, "No. No, you're having this kid."

"And what then, Mark?"

Mark sent another glare her way and threw both hands up in the air. "We'll raise him! Or her! We'll raise the kid here!"

"No," Addison said gently, shaking her head. "I can't do that."

"And why the hell not?"

Truth be told, Addison wasn't trying to be the selfish bitch that Mark was beginning to think she was. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand as she continued crying, unable to stop that damned inevitable flow of tears. "Do you honestly think you're the father type?" she asked indignantly, looking at him with a puzzled look. "You aren't, Mark, and I refuse to have this baby."

"Didn't you want kids?"

"With Derek!" Addison said. "I wanted kids with Derek. I wanted a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a couple of little kids running around my house. Maybe even a dog. But not this. Not a huge house in the middle of the city with you!" She pushed hair out of her face and slumped onto the bed, wiping the tears and smeared make-up off her face with her hands. "I miss him, Mark. This whole baby thing has really made me realize that. I miss Derek."

Mark folded his arms across his chest again.

"I'm aborting the baby," Addison said calmly, but she was still crying. Mark wanted to console her like he had so many times before -- and not the type of console that required sex, either. Honestly, he couldn't even stand to be around her at this point, so he just stood there. The redheaded woman said, "I'm going to go to Seattle, after the abortion."

He looked utterly confused at this point. "What the hell is in Seattle?"

"Derek," Addison replied. "And a job." She stood slowly and wiped her nose again, and the tears had finally stopped. Now, she just looked like a mess. "I want your stuff out tomorrow," she told Mark rather rudely. "If it isn't, I'll have everything thrown out." Addison was the type of woman to do it, too. She would throw out everything if she had her way, and she wanted this whole thing done with. "I don't want to see you, either." She headed toward the door and stopped. With one hand on the doorframe, she turned to look at him with puffy eyes and a red nose. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry."

When she walked away, Mark couldn't help but mentally curse himself for being who he was. Then the words "stupid bitch" came to mind as he shook his head and began packing. He would never forgive her for this. Never.


End file.
